


Fuck Witches

by redezzed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Genderbending, Handprint, M/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redezzed/pseuds/redezzed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates witches for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck Witches

**Author's Note:**

> This just happened, inspiration struck and I just rolled with it.  
> Yo, I'm [awayinafastimpala](http://awayinafastimpala.tumblr.com/) if you wanna come chat

_Fuck this._

_Fuck this. Fuck this. **Fuck this**._

Dean stormed over to the Impala, gripping his knife tightly. Blood dripped from his forehead but he couldn’t even feel the injury. As he threw open the door he caught Sam’s smirk.

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean growled. It was not as menacing as he had hoped.

Sam flat out laughed when Dean had to move the seat up so his feet could reach the pedals.

“This is not funny Sam!”

Sam was almost breathless from laughing, “This is hysterical. Stop being such a girl, Deanna.” That triggered another fit of laughter.

“Would if I fucking could.” Dean swore under his breath and rolled up his sleeves to be able to grip the wheel tight. The slim hands and narrow wrists that no longer comfortably encompassed the wheel. Dean checked the rearview mirror before pulling out of the long driveway, trying to ignore the shaped eyebrows and slightly curvy sandy hair. The movements it took to drive the Impala no long felt familiar and comforting. His- this body was too small, too weak, too…curvy.

“Fuck witches.” He hissed.

“Won’t be the same anymore.” Sam cackled and broke down laughing again.

 

The motel door slammed open and Dean stomped into the room. The click of a camera made him spin. Sam tried to look innocent as he lowered the phone.

“Don’t even think for a second that suddenly I won’t be able to beat the crap out of you.” He hated,hated how his voice now rose in pitch instead of lowered.

“Just documenting it, we can send the photo to Bobby to see if he has run across a spell like this before.” Sam tapped the screen, sending it off.

“Great.” Dean growled, “Why don’t you also called down Cas for Heaven and you can all point and laugh.”  

Sam looked up, “That’s actually a good idea. Cas might be able to sense something about the magic.” Dean groaned and dropped his bag. He felt grimey and bloody and just wrong in this body.

“I’m going to take a shower. Maybe it will just wash away.”

“Unlikely.” Sam was already pulling out his laptop and furrowing his brow as he began research.

“Fucking witches.” Dean muttered.

 

Dean was moving on autopilot, determinedly not looking in the mirror until the water vapor from the showed fogged up the view. He dropped his too large clothes to the floor blindly and stepped into the shower. The pounding hot water on his sore back felt good and he could feel the dirt being washed from his- this body. Dean’s eyes remained shut.

It took forever to work shampoo into the long hair, he was cursing by the end of it and used up a whole bottle of the free motel crap. Conditioner sounded ridiculous and too much of a waste of time so he shot off the water and stepped out. He fumbled for a towel and half hearted patted himself dry and tried to wring the damp from his hair, until finally wrapping the towel around his waist like he normally would. It wrapped far further than it usually would. Then, and only then did he hazard a glance. The anti-possession tattoo was higher than it used to be, sitting on and below his collarbone than on his heart. Deans stomach flipped a bit. His tattoo was higher, a scar on his arm was lower and curved further around his forearm. What other marks had moved-

Dean froze.

The handprint on his shoulder was gone.

He twisted his shoulder, facing the mirror and trying to see if it had moved to his back. Nothing. He lifted his arm, checking if it had flipped to the soft underside. Nothing. Panic flared in Dean’s chest. Suddenly being a girl was one thing, but changing the marks on him was another. His scars, his tattoos, the damn handprint on his shoulder were all part of him. They told stories, they represented his life, he had  _earned_  them. Then he saw it. And panic turned to anger.

 

The bathroom door slammed open. Sam looked up instantly and wished he hadn’t.

“Dude! Put a shirt on!” Sam slapped a hand over his eyes. While teasing his newly made sister was fun, he did not want to experience anything more than that.

“Castiel get you feathered ass down here right now!” Dean yelled. A woosh of feathers announced the angels arrival and Sam dared a glance towards him, still blocking the view of Dean across the room.

“Dean, you appear to be under some kind of curse.” Cas said, unperturbed.

“No shit Sherlock!” Dean was still twitching with anger, “What the hell is this?” Sam decided it was a better idea to not look.

“That is where I gripped your soul and raised it from perdition.” Castiel’s voice was level, but his eyes narrowed and his head tilted.

“Yeah, but not  _there_ -” Dean protested.

“Dean, the touch of an angel on a soul in not in the physical realm-”

“Cas I was touched by an angel, not fucking groped by one! Change me back!”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched up. “Of course.”

     He paused and smiled for real.

     “ _Deanna_.”


End file.
